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Hermione, Halloween Night

It was hard for Hermione to believe that it had been a year. One singular, calendar year since she’d kissed Sirius Black in a drunken lapse of impulsivity. Perhaps in a way it had worked in her favour; it’d been the turning point for everything after all. Even the reception following their relationship reveal to their friends and family had been, for the most part, well received. All in all, Hermione could not complain. Even the months spent transitioning into post-Hogwarts life, with Sirius by her side, had been easier than expected. She’d finally started her introductory career in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, in their Beast Division, working alongside Amos Diggory in hopes of counteracting the Werewolf Registration Act—something Sirius had confessed to being humbled by on more than one occasion. Her career had lit a fire in her heart; it was a passion that burned brightly, and Sirius? He’d kept his promise of supporting her, encouraging her and most importantly, grounding her. When she would come home from the office, he always ensured that she left her work at work. Whether it was a midnight ride around London, or taking her apart by his hands, Sirius was able to ensure that thoughts of legislation and the Wizengamot were the furthest things from her mind. 

She was thankful for that—for him.

Sirius had an attuned way of knowing what Hermione needed even when she didn’t. Their compatibility was one of the things that Hermione loved most about being with him. Sirius had a keen way of sensing when she was on the precipice of a spiral, and he always knew just how to intervene. It was one of the reasons that Hermione had found it so easy to trust him—something she’d always struggled doing with others. Hermione had always preferred to do everything herself, lest it not be done correctly. But being with Sirius? They were two halves of the same whole. He pushed her to new limits, to new experiences that were not contained to just day-to-day life. 

Sirius pushed her, both in and out of the bedroom. She knew that Sirius had a dominating streak that coursed through his veins, running stronger than any shot of firewhiskey. Hermione understood that need stemmed from his childhood, from the home life that never gave him any form of autonomy; it was always the family’s expectations– never his own . Sirius had only found freedom in the arms of the Potters, and even then his freedom was stripped from him prematurely. But with his second chance, Hermione understood that buried beneath his desire for control, Sirius was focused— selfless and attuned to what she always needed. Hermione knew without a doubt that she could fall, and Sirius would be there to catch her; that he always put her pleasure first. He’d once told her that making her come first was the purest form of self-indulgence, knowing that he was responsible for her, pushed him to please her further. He loved knowing that her cries, moans, and pleas belonged to him—that there was no greater sight than to watch her fall apart under his hands. It was in the wake of that trust, that Hermione found herself willingly exploring the depths of her sexuality. Their physical intimacy moved in ways that she was certain she would have never been comfortable doing with anyone else. 

Now, a year later, Hermione was sure that there wasn’t a sexual topic that they hadn’t discussed, or made a plan to explore. Sirius’s confidence in the bedroom was infectious, making it easy for Hermione to feel comfortable sharing her desires and interests. Sirius wanted to know her wants, her curiosities. It left her feeling as if he had made it his personal devotion to bring her deepest fantasies to fruition, to perfect each way that he loved her. To most, Sirius appeared reckless, impulsive, but Hermione knew— he was intent, bringing a rapt attention to what he viewed as important. His family— her; that was what he felt was worth his time. Sirius didn’t bother with pleasurable courtesies, never wasting a moment on something he didn’t deem important. He’d often claimed that he’d lost so much time as it was, he wasn’t going to waste what he had left on things, or people , he didn’t think mattered.

When Hermione thought about Sirius’s words— his actions , she often found herself blushing. He’d spend what felt like eternities between her thighs, worshiping her, wringing orgasm after orgasm from her body until she was a writhing, needy mess, begging for him to fuck her. It was the best form of torture. He would grin deviously up at her, his beard coated in her release, and as he entered her, Sirius always held her gaze, refusing to let her look away. Even when he would take her from behind, he would envelop her, leaning over her shoulder, tilting her chin to his. 

There’s an eternity in your eyes, he’d claimed, and then he’d fuck her until she was boneless. 

His attentiveness was also particularly why she wanted tonight to be special for Sirius; a thank you for his devotion and to celebrate one year together. For weeks, she’d thought of what she could do for him. For her birthday, Sirius had bought her a thin golden bracelet, whose delicate clasp was crafted in the shape of a dog—she’d never taken it off. But Sirius’s wants, outside of the bedroom, remained a mystery to her. He never spoke of anything that he wanted, and when he did, he’d already purchased it for himself. Sirius wasn’t extravagant in material things, choosing instead to shower those in his life with his fortune. Sirius had only ever desired freedom, and he finally obtained it. When Hermione failed to come up with an adequate gift, she decided to pay attention to Sirius’s actions rather than words. He’d never come out and asked for anal, but he’d dropped subtle hints ever since their Valentine's night together in the Room of Requirement, and even more so since her twentieth birthday the previous month. A brush of a finger when he’d take her from behind, or a languid lick from her cunt to arse. It was never direct, but his intent was clear— he wanted her. He’d already told her that it would only occur when she was ready, and now—Hermione finally was. 

She hadn’t realised the amount of effort that it took in preparation for a good anal experience until she began her research into the act. Nor did she realise how hard it would be to partake in anal training without Sirius catching on. But as she glanced at the larger, golden plug with the ruby encrusted hilt in her hand, she knew her endeavour would be worth it. When she’d initially seen the toy in the display window of Madam Dufour’s Maison de Débauche , Hermione had known it would be perfect for the occasion. Madam Dufour’s was a recently opened sex shop off of Knockturn Alley, and it was where Hermione had initially ventured after scouring the internet  at a local Muggle library for answers. After completing the three sizes in her basic anal training kit, she’d returned, looking for something that she could wear for the night. Madam Dufour’s had not disappointed. When she’d spied the display, Hermione had purchased the golden plug, along with a specialised lube without hesitation. 

Tonight would be perfect.

Hermione studied her appearance in the floor length mirror of her and Sirius’s suite, tilting her head to the side, as she ran a delicate finger along the leather collar secured snuggly around her neck. She could picture it perfectly, see it vividly, the shock that would quickly transform into a bleeding desire on Sirius’s face when he stripped her and saw . Hermione was determined that tonight would be about him. He deserved it, and more. Last year was only a game of cat and mouse, but tonight? Tonight , she wanted to bring the big bad dog to his knees. 

The pair had agreed to attend the Lupin’s Halloween celebration planned for later that night. Tonks had insisted that this was the first year that everyone would be home following the battle, and they all deserved a night of a little adult fun. To her knowledge, Ginny and Harry would be in attendance, as would Ron, with none-other than Daphne Greengrass as his date. Their coupling and budding romance had come as a surprise to most. The eldest Greengrass had broken her betrothal agreement to Blaise Zabini during the summer in pursuit of following her own ambitions and becoming a curse breaker for Gringotts. It was during her apprenticeship with Bill Weasley that her path had crossed with Ron. 

After the reveal of her and Sirius’s relationship, Ron had taken some time to himself, spending the summer away from London to work on his anger. She’d known he was still processing the events of the previous year. His time spent in the Auror Academy had only been a stitch in the chasm of anger that wove through him—a distraction from the resentment that filled him when he thought about the loss of Fred. It had moulded him, shaped him; his anger was a sickness that was burning through each of his relationships at both ends. Bill had seen his pain where others had overlooked— Hermione included . When Bill had requested his presence at Shell Cottage for the summer, Ron initially tried to decline, claiming he needed the summer to study before his final written exam in order to complete his Auror certification in August. But Bill had refused, claiming that there was no better way to pass the time than by the sea. So Ron had gone, and Hermione had been floored by the man that returned. 

It was something that she and Sirius had talked about late one night after a family dinner at the Burrow. They’d laid in bed, limbs entwined, reflecting on the odd interaction with their former flatmate. Ron now carried himself with a reserved demeanour that seemed to mirror Bill’s stoicism rather than his previous attempts at trying to contort himself into the shadow left byFred’s absence. It was strange—for both of them—to see this new version of Ron. He no longer glanced at them with disdain written in his eyes, and when he’d officially moved out of Grimmauld in late August, he had done so without an ounce of vehemence in his actions. He’d even taken it a step further, apologising to both she and Sirius for his behaviour following her graduation. They had each accepted and thanked Ron for the gesture, but Hermione had held her breath around him for weeks after. She was waiting for the inevitable fallout that was sure to come. She knew Ron; he was quick to anger, and favoured holding grudges despite his pretty words. But for once, it seemed as though she had been wrong. 

Her birthday came and went; weeks and dinners passed with no clash of words between them. It was surprising, but eventually the knot of anxiety that had wound in the pits of her stomach began to unfurl. She was happy, her friends were happy, and it didn't matter what had occurred between Ron and Bill during the summer, because it finally seemed as though Ron was stepping into the man who she knew him to be. Which was why it had come to no surprise when he told her he was seeing Daphne Greengrass. Was she shocked by his choice in witch? Yes , but she had not been surprised to learn that there was a lady in Ron’s life. He’d told her almost nervously, as if he’d expected her to rebuke him, to chastise him for dating someone from Slytherin House. 

Who was she to dissuade Ron from a relationship that clearly brought him happiness? Hermione didn’t know much about Daphne aside from some rude comments that she’d made during the last year in DADA. But for the most part, Daphne had been quiet in their shared classes, even before the war. The only significant thing Hermione could clearly remember about Daphne was her being highly adept at charms. From what she recalled, the Greengrass family had been neutral during both wars, and her younger sister, Astoria, was still dating Malfoy. When Ron had told her how their paths had crossed at Shell Cottage, she’d smiled. From the way Ron spoke of her, Daphne challenged him in a way that was not threatening, and it was just another testament to Ron’s growth—his ability to see past a house rivalry. Even if she regarded the pairing as being odd , Hermione was sincerely happy for him. After Ron had confessed his courtship, Hermione had shared the news with Sirius. That night, as he held her to his chest, she giggled, ‘could you imagine, Ron and Malfoy as in-laws?’ and Sirius had released a barking laugh. Tonight’s party would be the first time that Hermione would see the pair as a couple, and she was anxious for the meeting.

But even the idea of being together, celebrating Halloween with their friends, was not enough to distract her from her goal at hand—s he wanted Sirius panting. She ran her hand over the crimson dress that stopped just above mid thigh. It was subtle, alluring in a way that was not too revealing, with its tufts of white lace that fell over her shoulders, and the neckline dipped dangerously low— she was excited . The cut of the dress allowed her leather collar to remain on display, and Hermione had managed to attach her matching cloak to the clasp without hindering the view. It was subtle enough that most would suspect that the collar was part of the costume, a twist on the classic Little Red Riding Hood, but she knew that Sirius would know. He’d recognise it for what it was, what it meant. She flicked her wand once, summoning a pair of black pumps from their closet before descending the stairs. 

The front door to Grimmauld Place was open. Sirius leaned against the frame, a cigarette in hand as he blew smoke rings into the air. Hermione paused, hand on the railing as she appreciated the view. Sometimes it still surprised her, the realisation that she was his —that he’d chosen her. And tonight he looked particularly ravishing. Sirius was aged more perfectly than firewhiskey, smooth with a bite of something keen. He’d allowed his beard to grow longer than she’d previously seen, filling out his jaw perfectly. His hair was twisted into a knot at the nape of his neck, and there, nestled atop his head was a black pair of wolf ears that she’d worn last year. Hermione would never get over the sight of him. She knew that buried beneath his leather jacket were cords of muscle adorned with tattoos that she loved to trace. They wove down his arms, bleeding into hands that were calloused and rough, yet, they somehow managed to touch her with the gentleness of something divine. She watched as the same hands flicked the ash from the cherry, taking a final drag before depositing his fag into the dirt pot on the top step. 

Hermione took that as her cue, descending the stairs. Her heels echoed softly against the wood, and Sirius turned at the sound, meeting her gaze. His grey eyes were a torrential storm, imploring her with such intensity that she felt a familiar heat pooling in her belly. Each step forward moved the plug within her, and it took a tremendous effort to keep her face schooled into one of neutrality as she finally paused at the bottom of the stairs. Sirius didn’t speak, instead he continued to rake his gaze along her frame. She raised a questioning brow, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Enjoying what you see?” Hermione purred, batting her eyelashes teasingly. 

Sirius kicked the door closed behind him, stalking towards her until he could wrap one arm around her waist, giving her arse a light swat as his other hand ran his thumb along her cheek. “ Fuck, baby, ” he muttered. Heavy eyes roamed over her face, studying her. He traced her jaw, moving until his finger lingered along the leather secured around her neck. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I think all of my blood has gone to my cock.” 

Hermione laughed, light and tinkering. She placed a hand on his chest, pressing. “That’s not how heart attacks work, Sirius.” 

He grinned, bending forward to press his lips against hers. “I know, but still. This dress—this collar— no wonder the big bad wolf wanted little red so bad.”

Hermione held her breath, silently pleading that Sirius wouldn’t discover her surprise as his hand palmed her arse. She exhaled when he withdrew it, adjusting the ears atop his head. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to go back upstairs and allow me the ultimate joy of fucking you into our mattress?” 

She leaned forward, threading her fingers through his. “You already promised Remus we would come.”

“We’re only staying five minutes.”

“ Sirius…”

“ Kitten…”

Hermione rolled her eyes, shifting her weight on her heels as she held his gaze. The corner of Sirius’s lips twitched beneath his beard.

“Fine, ten minutes. ” He reached forward, dipping his finger beneath the neckline of her dress, grazing her breasts. “I want to peel this from you, baby. How do you expect me to make it through the night?” He tugged her forward, grinding his hardening cock against her hip. It was enough to make her self control waver, a whimper slipping from her throat. Sirius’s grin only darkened. He reached up, finger slipping through the singular ring on the collar. “We’ll go, but just know, when we get home, I’m going to take my time with you.” His voice dipped sinfully low, erupting gooseflesh along her skin in his wake. “Then I think I will finally allow myself to fuck you in nothing but this collar.” 

___________________

Hermione and Sirius stepped through the Lupin’s Floo hand in hand. Her eyes widened as she quickly scanned the decòr that surrounded her. It was evident that Tonks had not approached the party in light. Each surface of the humble abode was brought to life in the spirit of Halloween. Spider-webbing hung from the ceiling, draping across doorways and crept down the walls. Rather than lighting lamps, black candles floated along the ceiling, lighting a path to the back yard. In the distance, Hermione could faintly hear music playing. Feeling Sirius’s gaze, she looked up, arching a brow. 

“Shall we?” she asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Sirius glanced at the clock. “We have seven minutes left.” 

She shot him a look of incredulity before shaking her head, pulling him towards the kitchen. 

“You’re awful,” Hermione chastised playfully.

Sirius only laughed, reaching up to twine one of her riotous curls around his finger. “Your words hurt me, baby, and here I was under the impression that you loved me.”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder, red lips curving into a smirk. “I do love you, Sirius; don’t be dramatic.”

He stopped, and she sighed, turning to look at him. His eyes were celestial pools, wholly consumed by the black of his pupils. Leaning forward, Sirius’s lips grazed her ear. “I can’t wait to see those pretty red lips wrapped around my cock later.”

It was honestly unfair, the effect his words had on her. Warmth flooded her, and when Sirius swatted her arse before opening the door for them, she yelped. The angle had shifted her, moving the plug within her just so. Until that point, she’d almost forgotten about its presence, having slowly become desensitised to the pressure within. But the sudden jolt quickly reminded her that it was very much still there. Hermione’s face heated as she met Sirius’s curious eyes. 

“You alright, Hermione?” he asked, all playfulness gone, his words laced with worry.

She swallowed, hating to lie. “I’m fine. I just shifted odd in these bloody heels.”

Hungry eyes flickered down, eyeing the pumps adorning her feet. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he pressed a swift kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered, ghosting her face with his breath. Bloody spearmint, she thought, closing her eyes as his words washed over her. “I lied earlier; I want to fuck you in only this collar and those heels when I get you home. You’re going to look so pretty spread open on my cock.”

Her knickers were destroyed. 

How the hell was she expected to keep Sirius from dragging them back home when he was taking her apart with his words? She bit her lip, whimpering, and she felt Sirius’s deep chuckle reverberate against her chest. 

“ Come on, baby, ” he teased, voice low, velvety smooth. “We have a party to attend.” 

The renovated Lupin Cottage had grown to be one of Hermione’s favourite respites. Nestled in the foothills of the Yorkshire Dales, the secluded cottage sat on acres of land, surrounded by sparse trees and rolling hills. It was perfect for Remus’s monthly transformations. Bill had even helped set up wards to ensure that no unwanted visitors could stumble in on those nights. It was honestly perfect, and even Sirius had commented on the freedom that their home contained. 

“Is that something you would want? A home in the country one day?” Hermione had asked one morning after Sirius had returned from spending the night with Remus under the full moon.

He’d sat at their table, a steaming mug of black coffee in hand as he mulled her question over in his mind. “I don’t think so,” he said after a moment, voice contemplative. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a different flat, perhaps, but I enjoy the freedom that London gives. Moony’s cottage offers him freedom in the way that a city can not, just like a rolling countryside can’t give me a backroad to explore. It’s different—for each of us.”

Hermione hummed, leaning against the counter. She understood what Sirius meant, and as she glanced around Grimmauld, she realised that she wouldn’t be opposed to a different flat either…

“Is that something you would want, Hermione? A country home?” he asked, almost wearily. 

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head no. “I’ve never envisioned a quaint home in the hills, but I could possibly be persuaded with the idea of a new flat.” 

They had each been in agreement that visiting Remus and Tonks would suffice when London became too stimulating, but Hermione had relaxed knowing that once more, she and Sirius were in agreement with their plans. 

When the couple stepped outside, Hermione’s eyes widened. Tonk’s grandeur had clearly extended from their cottage into the vast back yard. The same cobwebs that had filled the home, wove throughout the trees—only this time, magically charmed spiders weaved between the silken threads. Clouds obscured the stars that were typically vast. Instead, their illuminating presence had been replaced by candles hovering overhead. Their orange flames contrasted vividly against the inky night sky, cultivating an almost ominous presence. Towards the perimeter of the heating charms was an erected canvas, and projecting on it was the cult classic, Rocky Horror Picture Show. Hermione’s mouth popped open slightly as a familiar set of crimson lips appeared filling the yard with the melody of Science Fiction/ Double Feature.  

Her eyes quickly scanned the crowd, looking particularly for Molly Weasley. Hermione could not see the matriarch being receptive to the events of the film, but to her surprise, she found that the crowd surrounding her was— young. Perhaps Hermione had grown accustomed to Order meetings, holidays at the Burrow and her years at Hogwarts, where she was always surrounded by her elders. However, it was abundantly clear that Tonks had been intent— selective— with their guest choices. Surrounding her and Sirius were their friends from a much younger variety, as well as an abundance of middle aged witches and wizards she didn’t recognise. Regardless, it was evident that the mood was jovial.

Bill and Fleur were speaking with Hestia and John near the film. Fleur looked ethereal in her angel costume. A white, strapless dress enunciated her every curve, while shimmering silver fishnet stockings covered her legs. Bill’s accompanying costume was that of the devil. His onyx shirt was unbuttoned, and even in the dim light, Hermione could see the silver scars from Greybacks mauling along his chest—they were deeper, thicker than the ones adorning his face. Deep crimson horns protruded from his long, auburn hair, and Hermione was certain that on anyone else, the colour between the two would have clashed. But together, he and Fleur matched. His hand rested on the low of his wife’s back, just below the pair of delicate, white feathered wings. Hermione averted her gaze, feeling as if she were protruding on something intimate when Bill turned, smiling fondly at whatever Fleur had said.

Compared to the Weasleys, John and Hestia’s costumes were much more subtle . John appeared to be a mummy while Hestia had chosen the route of Mother Isis. Scarlet robes cinched at her waist and with each move of her arms, a kaleidoscope of colour was revealed in cloth wings attached at her wrists. A golden crown sat upon her head, contrasting vividly against her raven locks. Hermione’s eyes continued to trail over the encompassing scene, taking in the carved jack-o-lanterns, dancing skeletons and bubbling cauldrons. Her gaze finally landed on what looked to be a game of Muggle beer pong. The table was set up adjacent to the refreshment spread. Ron and Daphne were squared up against George and Angelina, while Harry, Ginny, Pansy, and Neville watched. 

Hermione was initially shocked to see Pansy in attendance. Despite getting to know her a bit more as their eighth year had come to a close, Hermione still found it hard to believe that she and Neville were courting. She knew that things between them were rather serious,  but she had never expected to see her at the Lupin’s soiree. As Daphne gave Pansy a smug smirk when her small ball landed in her intended goblet, Hermione quickly remembered that the pair was quite close, and it made sense that Pansy would come in support of her friend. Hermione found her gaze lingering on Pansy and Neville’s costumes. It appeared that the pair had come as some sort of woodland sprites. A shimmering viridescent outfit, that more closely resembled a Muggle set of lingerie, covered Pansy’s creamy skin. Her bare legs were adorned with the silver straps of her heels; they climbed her legs, wrapping around her thighs like ivy. Neville was bare chested, and sitting low on his hips were a fitted pair of matching verdant trousers. Hermione found herself uncomfortable by the sight, she wasn’t used to seeing that much of Neville by any means. Her eyes quickly moved, landing on Ron and Daphne. Hermione was thankful that their costumes of choice were far more favourable to view. It was clear that they had chosen to bring to life the King and Queen from wizard’s chess. 

Ron wore a simple white Henley tee and denims, but resting atop his head was a white headdress that wrapped around his chin, leaving only his face exposed. The extravagant headdress ended with a cross at the peak, signalling his status as a king. Daphne was dressed in a complimentary outfit. A simple black dress clung to her petite frame, and sitting atop her dark hair was a black crown. George’s Peeve’s costume was by far the most unexpected, while Harry and Ginny were the least original in Hermione’s opinion. They had come as a Muggle butler and maid. Hermione continued to watch the game of beer pong unfold, still trying to decipher what Angelina’s costume was when Tonks lighthearted voice filled the air.

“Wotcher, cousin—’Mione.”

She turned, smiling brightly at Tonks and Remus. Hermione nearly laughed when she took in the sight of Tonks heart shaped face framed by mousy brown waves and a baby pink knee length dress. Narrow shoulders were covered with a white cardigan, and on her feet were a petite pair of kitten heels. 

“Fuck, Moony, what has she done to you?” Sirius inquired in a jesting tone, and Hermione quickly turned her gaze to her former professor.

Remus stood, with a long suffering expression imprinted upon his face. His salt and pepper hair had been swept to the side, and on his nose sat thick, dark glasses. Several layers of clothes covered his body, but underneath the zipper of his khaki jacket, Hermione could clearly visualise a navy jumper over a white Oxford.

“Brad and Janet!” Hermione exclaimed as the connection clicked.

Tonks' smile grew wicked as she popped her bubblegum. “I tried to get him into his skivvies—the old man refused,” she said with a wink.

“ No , not my Moony being modest,” Sirius chortled, and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Dammit Janet,” Remus sighed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I love you… ” Tonks finished, looping her arm through his.

Hermione nodded to the projection that had moved on to Brad and Janet driving in the rain. “Rocky Horror?” 

“Dad loved it. It was one of the first films he ever showed Mum. I thought it was fitting for the occasion—allows me to bless the masses.”

Hermione glanced at Sirius who was watching the film with obvious interest. “Do you like it, Remus?”

He looked at his wife with feigned annoyance, but there was adoration in his eyes. “She refused to let me watch it beforehand.”

Hermione’s smile grew as Over at the Frankenstein Place played in the background. 

“I can’t believe Lils never showed us this,” Sirius gestured as Riff Raff led Brad and Janet further into the castle. “That thing looks like ol Lucius.”

Tonks snorted, Remus sighed, and Hermione stifled a giggle. 

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that I’m not alone in my appreciation for Frank-N-Furter.”

Hermione laughed, “If I hadn’t known better, I would have guessed Ginny to be dressed as Magenta.”

Tonks’ face contorted into a pout. “ No , I asked immediately when she and Harry arrived, and she looked at me like I was barmy.”

She glanced up at Sirius who was still focused on the projection. Hermione raised a brow at Tonks. “Do you think they're ready for the Time Warp?”

“With a bit of a mind flip–”

“You’re into the time slip!” Hermione finished, smiling.

Tonks and Hermione yelled the lyrics in unison as the sounds of ‘ let’s do the time warp again’ filled the yard, garnering everyone’s attention. Tonks grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her away from Sirius and towards the designated dance area. Hermione’s cheeks hurt from smiling as she peered over to Sirius who stood by Remus, arms crossed as he watched them with a bemused smile. 

It's just a jump to the left

And then a step to the right

Put your hands on your hips

You bring your knees in tight

Hermione and Tonks moved in time with the party on the screen. She was thankful for the extra cushioning charms on her heels as she followed along, placing her hands on her hips. Ginny cheered, clapping loudly before dragging Harry by his suit lapel to join. Hermione knew she was playing with fire, that she was being intentionally provocative, but as the chorus continued, she couldn’t help but swivel her hips with an added flair. 

But it's the pelvic thrust

That really drives you insane

Let's do the Time Warp again

Let's do the Time Warp again

When Hermione met Sirius’s gaze again, she found that he was watching her darkly, wholly consuming the way her dress lifted with each move. She tossed him a wink, and Tonks laughed, motioning for Remus to join her. Sirius clapped him on the shoulder, already crossing the yard towards the two witches. By this point, the dance area was practically full, and even Pansy and Neville were attempting the steps. When it came time to repeat the movements, she smelt the aroma of fennel and pine blended perfectly with leather. 

Sirius.

His hands enveloped her, moving in time as their hips thrusted to the beat. She heard Harry groan somewhere in the distance, followed rapidly by a chastising Ginny. Hermione laughed, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against Sirius’s shoulder. Her mind was transported back to New Year’s Eve at Belle’s where they had danced under the neon lights to Heart’s Magic Man. 

Merlin, she loved this man. She allowed her fingers to trail over the backs of his hands, threading her fingers through the groove of his knuckles. Hermione glanced down, eyeing the fresh ink along the back of his left hand. ‘1979’ had been tattooed in a matching script to the ‘1975’ along his right. She was permanent, tattooed along his heart and skin. Hermione bit her lip, pressing her arse against him as she thought of the Canis Major constellation tattooed along the curve of her hip. No one but Sirius and she knew that it was there, but Hermione preferred it that way. Sirius loved to lave at it, sinking his teeth into the centre after making her come apart on his tongue. As if he could read her thoughts, Sirius brushed his thumb along her hip. She turned, glancing up at him with a shy smile. He was looking at her with a ravenous hunger, one that could not be sated. Hermione bit her lip, each movement teasing the toy inside her, sending shock waves of pleasure rippling through her body— she nearly moaned.

Sirius’s growl rumbled against her back, but their moment was cut short as laughter and applause erupted around them as Time Warp ended and Frank-N-Furter appeared on the screen. Hermione’s eyes widened in humour as Sirius’s brows rose. The melody of Sweet Transvestite wove between them, and his gaze darted to her face, a smile splitting across his own. 

“Do you think we could play this in front of dear Walburga? Do you think she’d enjoy it? Perhaps it’d finally stun her into silence?” 

Hermione chuckled, spinning to wrap her arms around Sirius’s neck. She smiled up at him, adjusting the ears atop his head. “She’d probably tell us that once again, we have sullied ‘the Noble and Ancient House of Black.’”

Sirius grinned, wolfish. “I’m sure I could come up with some ways that we could sully my bloodline further.” 

Her heart hammered against her ribs in anticipation. She was certain Walburga would have never approved of what she wanted to do with Sirius Black. 

“I’m sure you could,” she replied teasingly, trying to hide the excitement in her voice.

Sirius raised an inquisitive brow, but he didn’t respond. Instead his attention was drawn by Harry. She turned, smiling at her best friend. 

“Some film,” Harry said awkwardly, gesturing over his shoulder.

“At least you're a better butler than Riff Raff,” Hermione quipped.

“Is that what they call the Lucius looking fellow?” Sirius asked and Ginny laughed.

“This makes sense, explains why Tonks was asking if I was some lady named ‘Magenta’ when we arrived.” 

Hermione grinned. “I think it’s fitting for the party.”

“Tonks really outdid herself,” Ginny appraised, glancing around the yard.

“How’s that going?” Sirius inquired, nodding to where Ron, Daphne, Neville, and Pansy were all gathered near the bar.

Ginny shrugged. “Pansy is still a bit of a thorn, but I like Daphne. Ron’s a lot more—” She turned to Harry for help.

“Mellow?” He offered with a shrug. “Daphne’s… gentle with him.”

“It’s surprising really, the way Bill talks about her. She’s apparently one hell of a curse breaker,” Ginny shrugged, twirling her dust mop between her fingers.

“We’re happy for him.”

As though being summoned, the couples crossed the lawn, extra drinks in hand.

“Fun punch time!” Ginny winked, walking to meet their friends.

Hermione moved to follow, but Sirius’s hand wrapped around her elbow, halting her steps. “Don’t drink too much, kitten. I want your wits about you later,” he all but growled into her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down her spine.

“Yes, sir,” she breathed. Her gaze flickered to where Harry stood, staring up at the candles with an acquiescent look etched into his face.

“Sorry, son,” Sirius chuckled, but his feigned remorse was evident as he swatted her arse.

“ Merlin, you two are worse than Ron and Lavender were during sixth year,” Harry groaned.

Hermione’s face slightly reddened as she glanced up at Sirius, who was smiling smugly.

“Oh, Harry,” Ginny cooed, extending him a drink. “You can swat my arse if you want, too.” 

Harry sputtered, emerald eyes widening behind his glasses. Sirius barked a laugh, clapping his shoulder.

“I’m going to go find Moony.” He gave Hermione a kiss to her forehead before disappearing through the yard.

Hermione felt his absence instantly. Sirius had become a part of her, ingrained into her very being. She took her own offered drink with a demurred smile. 

“Well, I must admit that the decor is better than I anticipated,” Pansy offered, nursing her own cup. “And this drink isn’t terrible.”

“Pans…” Neville playfully chastised, bumping her hip with his own.

“I think it’s lovely,” Daphne offered, smiling meekly. “Though I am starting to wonder if we ought to rescue Theo.” 

Ron snorted. “Luna is harmless.”

Hermione followed Ron’s line of sight to where Luna had seemingly trapped an exasperated looking Theodore Nott by a tree. 

“I didn’t realise Theo was coming.” Hermione’s brow furrowed as she watched the scene unfold.

“He works with me and Bill,” Daphne explained, and Hermione turned to see the witch looking at her with an air of caution on her delicate features. Blue eyes stared back at her, as if silently pleading for Hermione’s acceptance of them.

“Of course,” she said eagerly, casting Daphne a genuine smile before looking at Ron. He seemed to watch the interaction between the two as if all that was good in his life depended on this interaction. “I’m happy you all could come.”

Ron visibly relaxed, shoulders sagging as Daphne returned her smile. A bridge crossed. Hermione looked to Neville, who was blushing profusely at whatever Pansy was currently whispering in his ear. She grinned.

“How’s Hogwarts, Nev?” Ginny asked, a knowing smirk so reminiscent of George’s upon her face.

Neville’s eyes widened at the abrupt question, his face flushed a shade deeper as if he’d been caught doing something scandalous.

“It’s quite good. I’ve learned quite a bit about the academic side of herbology. I’ll be Flooing back with Remus day after ‘morrow.”

“That’s exciting!” Hermione exclaimed. “I’m so happy for you!”

Neville shifted awkwardly under the praise, and Pansy leaned up, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

The rest of the party passed in a jovial manner. Hermione had stayed true to Sirius’s instruction and kept to just one cup of Ginny’s ‘fun punch.’ She and Sirius had danced, and he’d been particularly fond of Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me, sweeping her into his arms while he kissed along her neck. She’d been so surprised to see Remus so lax . Despite having dated Sirius for months, and spending more time with Remus and Tonks as a couple, she’d never seen him look so free. Remus nursed a glass of firewhiskey as Tonks leaned back against his chest, tilting her face to look up at him. Remus kissed her, smiling when she ran her fingers through his hair. Hermione wondered if she and Sirius looked at each other like that, so undoubtedly in love? 

“What are you thinking, Hermione?” Sirius asked in a lowly voice. His arms were wrapped around her shoulders, his thumb running along the leather of her collar. Hermione thought for a moment, turning his question over in her mind. She was happy, that was the first initial thought that flickered through her consciousness. Hermione loved being surrounded by her friends, seeing them happy after they each had lost so much. It was contentment, a sense of belonging to be here, in this moment, with the people she loved.

Sirius continued to hold her, his fingers dipping below her cloak to trace along her collarbone as he waited for her answer. Hermione glanced up, meeting his imploring gaze. It was unwavering, his grey irises reflecting in the emerging moonlight. Godric, he was beautiful, and Sirius was looking at her as if Hermione herself was his answer—his altar to worship.

She bit her lip, voice lowering into something that was sultry, even to her own years. “We’ve stayed longer than ten minutes.”

His eyes darkened, his hand sweeping up her throat to squeeze ever so slightly. “That we have, baby.”

____________________________

Hermione was positive that Sirius had never removed her from a gathering faster.

Goodbyes were rushed, parting hugs were given, but each movement pushed, lighting nerves ablaze that Hermione didn’t even know she possessed. She allowed Sirius to lead her back towards the Floo while her mind was a turbulent mess, racing to keep up. 

What if he didn’t like it? What if she read his signs wrong? 

Anticipation pooled in her spine, weaving up, twisting and turning like a live wire waiting to spark. Sirius’s fervent touches had done little to temper the need burning inside of her. Each caress along her skin, each look , had left her with the promise for more .  Hermione needed to feel him, to have Sirius under her hands and in her arms. She wanted to mould them together, to entwine themselves together  so tightly , he was bruised upon her skin.

Moreso, Hermione wanted him inside her.

She felt as though she would crawl out of her skin as the pair stepped into the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. Hermione looked up, meeting Sirius’s hungry gaze. He looked at her as though he was famished, and she was his sole source of sustenance. The grey of his eyes was wholly consumed with black— bottomless— deep with wanting. It created a yearning inside of her, a desire that only he could sate. 

Hermione reached forward, tracing a finger along his dark brow. “What big eyes you have.” 

Sirius’s answering smile was full of sin, and Hermione took a playful step back. She watched as he shrugged off his leather jacket, tossing it onto an armchair. Hermione allowed herself a moment to appreciate the rippling of his muscles along his arms. Despite knowing each dip and plane of Sirius’s well honed body, he still left her speechless. In a graceful movement, he tugged his black shirt over his head, discarding it without a second glance.

“All the better to see you with.” His deep voice was rich— velvet —pouring over her skin like honey.

Hermione smirked, hand on the railing as she began her ascent to their bedroom. “My, my, what big teeth you have.”

Sirius kicked off his dragonhide boots, tossing them to the side. 

Desire.

It was an unstoppable need pulsating in time with her heart. Her gaze dipped lower; she traced over his chest. Her gaze followed the chiselled cut of his hips crafted from months of running before finally landing on the coarse patch of hair that disappeared beneath his dark denims.

He took the first step, his eyes never leaving hers as he flashed her an answering smile. “All the better to eat you with.”

Hermione bit her lip, reaching up to unfasten the crimson cloak from her collar. She tossed it over the railing with a wink. 

Another step.

“My, my, what big ears you have.”

Sirius reached up, throwing the dog ears over his shoulder without hesitation. “All the better to hear you with.”

Hermione’s breath caught, her hand tightening on the smooth railing. In a final step, she stood, staring down at Sirius from the landing. “ My, my… what a big nose you have.”

Sirius moved, taking the last two steps in a long stride. His hands cupped the back of her thighs as he pressed his face against her sex. Hermione gasped, threading her fingers through his hair, destroying his well crafted bun. Sirius looked up—eyes heavy, pupils blown. He bit her hip through her dress before growling darkly, “All the better to smell you with— baby.”

Hermione stifled a yelp as Sirius picked her up, carrying her to their bedroom. Her legs wrapped around him instinctively, stretching her out further on the toy inside her. Hermione bit on his shoulder, suppressing a moan. Sirius squeezed the backs of her thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. He kicked open their door with ease, laying her back on their bed until her curls fanned out around her head. Sirius reached forward, grabbing the neckline of her dress and tugging it down. Cool air pebbled across her breasts, pulling her nipples taunt. 

“Fucking perfect,” Sirius muttered, rolling a pink bud between his fingers. It didn’t matter that they’d had sex countless times by now, Sirius had a way of looking at her, and touching her each time with reverence. He treated her like she was something to cherish, that it was his privilege to love her, regardless of the lewd things he spewed. She loved his filthy mouth, his dirty words. She loved his rawness, his unbridled need for her.

She was a thirst he could not quench.

He was a fever she could not break.

And Hermione arched into his touch, needing more.

“My baby is so needy,” he said huskily, eyes never leaving her face.

Hermione keened, hands running up his forearms. She needed to slow him down, to regain control, but Sirius’s fingers stopped. He slid the palm of his hand up her chest, hooking his forefinger under the silver clasp of her collar and tugging her upwards towards him. She was panting, gasping, wanton in his hands as he ran his nose along her neck, pausing to nip at her ear. 

“Go take your dress off, Hermione,” he commanded, releasing his hold on her. 

She stood on shaky legs, peeling the dress from her body until she was left in nothing but her collar, heels, and crimson lace knickers. Sirius sat on the bed, long, denim clad legs stretched out in front of him as he appraised her. The rose pendant that hung from his neck glowed in the dim light of their suite. Hermione watched his face, tracing a hand along her stomach, upwards to palm her breast. He groaned, watching her pull at her nipples before him. She gazed down, looking to where his cock strained in his jeans, but Sirius seemed unphased. His attention was solely focused on where she stood, touching herself before him.

Sirius spread his legs further, and Hermione moved, coming to stand between them. He traced a finger along the constellation of his namesake while he bent forward, pulling one of her nipples between his teeth. 

“Who do you belong to, Hermione?” He asked, moving to lave at her other breast. His hand squeezed possessively against her hip as he sucked a love bite against her skin. Her nails dug into his scalp, holding him against her chest as he marked her— claimed her . His mouth was hot against her, stroking the fires within her into a roaring inferno. Each touch pulled her deeper, turning her thoughts into white noise. 

“You, Sirius,” she replied in a throaty whimper. 

Hermione was too consumed, too lost to the feeling of calloused hands roaming her skin. She didn’t think to stop, didn’t think to pull away when Sirius palmed at her arse. She moaned, loud and desperate as he pulled on her skin. Shockwaves of pleasure ricocheted through her body as the motion sparked deep within. She felt him grin against her stomach, looping his thumbs through the band of the delicate lace. Sirius slid the fabric down her legs until she stepped out of them. She was a mess before him, aching to be touched. He took his time, running his hands up her calves, along her thighs. He watched her face as his fingers drifted closer to her cunt. Her fingers tightened in his hair, her hips cantering forward in a feeble attempt to chase his hand. Sirius laughed, rich and deep as he took pity on her, brushing a finger through her slick folds. 

Sirius’s lips parted in awe as he moved through her, and Hermione’s knees nearly gave way.

“ Baby girl,” he whispered in admiration. “You’re so wet for me.” 

Hermione whimpered, gasping when he teased her entrance. Sirius nipped at her skin, withdrawing his fingers to circle her clit. He didn’t stop his ministrations while his other hand travelled around her hip, dancing along her arse. Hermione’s hands tightened in his hair as she stood between Sirius’s thighs. His touch was almost minuscule, like a feather trailing along each nerve. She tilted her head upward, a cascade of curls falling down her back as her eyes fluttered closed. Pleasure pooled at the base of her spine, spreading outward as Sirius’s fingers dipped between her arse.

She felt him stiffen as the pad of his finger touched the cool jewel of the hilt. Hermione’s eyes flew open and she looked down, meeting Sirius’s cautious gaze.

“ Hermione…”

He said her name in awe, as though he couldn’t believe what she was presenting to him.

Hermione swallowed, summoning the courage to be honest. She trailed a finger along his jaw, brushing his beard beneath her hand. “It’s been a year,” she whispered.

“It has.” 

“You want this,” she said it as a statement rather than a question, and she watched as Sirius’s eyes darkened with a hunger she’d never seen. 

She felt the bob of his throat as he swallowed, his voice was hoarse when he finally admitted. “I do, but—”

Hermione ran her thumb along his lip. “You once told me that when I was ready, we would explore this,” she hesitated, recalling the words she said to him a year ago. “Are you an honest man, Sirius Black?”

His hands tightened, fingers pressing deep into her hips— possessive . He captured her thumb between his lips, licking the digit as he would her cunt— unhurried. Her mouth parted as he tilted back, letting her thumb fall from his mouth.

“You know the answer, kitten.”

“Then I want to play.” It was what she always said to convey that she wanted more than a hard fuck or an intimate, languid pace. She wanted him to pull her apart by the seams, to edge her until she was begging for release. She wanted him to devour her, to give fully into the cravings that coursed through each of their veins.

Control.

She would gladly relinquish it for him.

Sirius trailed his eyes over her face once more before nodding. Hesitation bled from his face and voice. “Go spread yourself open, baby— on the bed —I want to see.” 

Hermione smirked, stepping away from him to climb onto their bed. She was wet, embarrassingly so. Slick covered her thighs from where he’d barely touched her, but she complied— eagerly so —determined to be good for him. Hermione crawled up onto her knees, black heels digging into her thighs. She glanced once over her shoulder before bending over, pressing her chest to the duvet, turning her head to the side. Hermione reached around until her hands gripped her arse and she pulled, spreading herself open for him to see.

Presenting herself.

Any thoughts or self consciousness dissipated from her mind as she heard Sirius’s breath hitch, and an appreciative groan fall from his lips.

“ Look at you,” he said as though he were reciting his last rite, a prayer at her altar. She felt his fingers trail through her folds, moving upward and pressing against the plug.

Hermione whimpered as sparks of excitement ignited along her spine.

“How long have you had this in, baby?” He asked, voice husky, thick, and burning with want.

Hermione’s fingers flexed against the flesh of her arse. “Be-before the party.” She breathed shakily as Sirius inserted one of his long fingers inside of her. He twisted them, but instead of stroking that front spot that typically made her see stars, Sirius pressed backwards, hitting the plug. Hermione’s knees nearly buckled, vision whitening as a sensation like none before coursed through her. She needed something— anything— to grab hold to, to keep her tethered; she was so fucking full. Her hands fell from her arse, digging into the duvet as Sirius continued to fuck her on his fingers.

“So fucking messy, baby. You’ve coated my hand,” he tutted. Hermione nearly cried when he withdrew his fingers, wiping her slickness on her arse. She’d been so close to release; she was right there. 

The bed dipped behind her, and Sirius’s hot breath was on her cunt, mumbling, “Going to have to clean you up, lick you clean.”

She was accustomed to Sirius taking his time, licking her with a timeless passion that slowly brought her to the precipice, but now? Sirius was devouring her. There was no hesitation as he buried his face between her thighs, fucking her with his tongue. She could not think— could not move— she was at his mercy, but Merlin, what a wonderful place to be. His thumb found her clit, stroking her, catapulting her towards release. Tears stung her eyes; she was there, right fucking there.

When Sirius pulled away she did cry, tears of frustration stung her eyes as he smacked her arse. 

“ Now, now kitten… don’t be greedy.”

He reached forward, finding her collar and pulling her body against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, finding her clit with ease. He circled it broadly, never enough to make her come but enough to keep her nerves a blaze— burning.

“ Sirius… ” she whimpered, nails clutching at his arm.

“Have I ever left you wanting, Hermione?” His tone was low, controlled as he spoke against her ear. He tweaked her nipple when she didn’t immediately respond . “Answer me, love.” 

“No, Sirius.”

“Then know that I’m going to make this so good for you, baby.” 

She nodded, keening her hips in desperation against his hand. His chuckle vibrated against her back as he pinched her clit between his fingers.

He moved his hand, spreading her crimson lipstick across her cheek with his thumb. “Now be my good little girl and suck my cock.”

Hermione twisted, removing herself from Sirius’s arms. Her fingers made quick work of unfastening his denims as she dropped to her knees before him. She held his gaze, unzipping and pulling his cock from his trunks. Sirius watched her with a devout fury as she stroked him, spreading his precum along his shaft. Broad shoulders and a canvas of tattoos towered over her as she ran her hand over the muscles of Sirius’s stomach. He flexed under her touch, releasing a shaky exhale as he reached forward, cupping her jaw between his fingers. It didn’t hurt by any means, but his hand was firm, opening her mouth for him.

“Such a pretty fucking picture, kitten,” he rasped, covering her hand with his as he controlled her strokes. “Stick out your tongue.”

Hermione preened, obliging to his command eagerly as her tongue slid from her mouth in offering. Sirius groaned, sliding himself against her, never quite entering into the warmth of her mouth. Hermione could taste him, the flavour that was undoubtedly— Sirius. It was her undoing—her damnation and salvation rolled into one. 

And she wanted to swallow him whole.

When Sirius pulled back, Hermione flicked her tongue along the sensitive under head. He growled, bending forward to capture her mouth in a bruising kiss. His hand remained firm along her jaw as Hermione opened eagerly for him, their tongues dancing in a fervent battle of dominance. Sirius nipped at her lip, leaning back to meet her eyes.

“ Look at you …” His eyes roamed her face, over her swollen lips, taking each shade of pink that spread along her cheeks. There was a prideful gleam to his eyes, sparking with lust. “ So desperate for it…”

Sirius moved, kicking off his jeans until he stood bare before her, moving his hand along his cock in an unhurried pace. Hermione’s fingers flexed along her thighs, and his gaze darted to the motion, a smirk tugging at his lips. He stepped towards her and her mouth opened, taking him down her throat. A string of expletives ripped from Sirius’s chest as he fucked her raw. It was filthy, the type that left her mascara running as each thrust pushed her further. Tears stung her eyes as Hermione moaned, swallowing around him until she gagged . Sirius’s hands fisted in her curls, pulling her off until a trail of spittle landed on her chin. 

Sirius peered at her with hooded eyes, chest heaving as he swiped the spit along her chin. He trailed his fingers down her neck, clasping the collar in his hand as he pulled her to her feet. “My perfect girl—so fucking good for me,” he praised lips, barley grazing hers as he pushed her back on the bed.

Hermione looked up at him, anticipation winding and twisting inside of her as Sirius parted her thighs. She thought he would fuck her, to fill her at least for a moment— just enough to take the edge off of this consuming need that was swallowing her. But instead, Sirius reached out his hand, summoning his wand wordlessly. His eyes were a storm, devouring her as he Accio’d one of their pillows, tilting her hips back to place it under her. 

Sirius spun his dark wand through his fingers, watching her as he ran his other hand along her inner thigh. “Do you want to come, Hermione?” he asked, fingers dancing along her folds.

“ Please, Sirius,” she begged, grabbing his forearm.

“You’ve been so patient for me.” He parted her, exposing the small cluster of nerves. Suddenly a soft vibration filled the air as Sirius lowered the tip of his wand to her clit.

Hermione gasped, nails breaking skin as pleasure ignited, spreading like an electrical current through her veins. Sirius watched her, traced the contours of her face with his eyes as the vibrations pulled her towards the brink of orgasm.

“Tell me when you're close, baby.” His command brokered no room for argument as her thighs trembled, her cunt clenching around nothing.

“C-close,” she finally managed to stammer, and just as before Sirius stopped, removing his wand from her clit.

She cried, moaning in protest as her chest heaved before him. Sirius shh’d her, brushing a sweat slickened curl from her face. “You’re doing so good, love,” he praised. He reached forward, palming her breast in his hand. “You’re gonna come for me, baby. You’re gonna come on my cock, and then I’m going to fuck that pretty arse of yours.”

Sirius didn’t give her a moment to respond. He stole her breath with a single thrust, filling her to the hilt. He didn’t move, and when Hermione tried to fuck herself against him, Sirius pinched her nipple— hard— haulting her motions. She groaned, in frustration, crying from her lack of release. She was so full , but she wanted— needed —more .

“ Please.”

The vibration of Sirius’s wand filled the air, and when he pressed the tip to her core she came instantly, clamping around his cock as a wave of release rolled through her body. Her back arched, toes curled as Sirius rolled his wand over her, drawing out her pleasure. 

“ Fuck,” she gasped, her cunt spasming as another wave rolled through her. Sirius swallowed her cries greedily as his mouth met hers. She heard his wand hit the ground, his hands moving to bracket her face as he rolled his hips shallowly.

He nipped her lip. “So good baby.” He withdrew, reaching between them, fingers finding the toy’s hilt before pausing. “Are you sure, Hermione?” 

Genuine concern was etched upon his face as he waited. Hermione was still breathless, over sensitised from her consecutive orgasms. She nodded, eyes wide with honesty. “ Please, Sirius —I want you to.”

Sirius pulled the toy from her slowly, and Hermione gasped when it finally slipped fully from her., leaving her empty. Sirius laid it to the side before slipping a finger over her entrance. She was open, but not fully.

“Let me work you open a bit further, love.” 

She nodded in appreciation as Sirius summoned a bottle of lube into his hand. “Tell me if at any point you want to stop.” 

She watched as he coated his fingers before inserting one inside her opening with ease. Sirius watched her face with devotion, ensuring that each move of his hand brought her pleasure instead of pain. He draped one of her legs over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to her knee. He took his time, stretching her properly. He murmured praises into her skin, slipping a third finger inside of her. Each twist of his wrist, push of his finger, stroked a sensation that coiled inside of her, twisting and turning until she was left begging for him to fuck her. When Sirius withdrew his hand, she felt empty, but it only lasted a moment before he lined himself with her entrance.

“Breathe for me, baby,” he whispered, pushing into her when she exhaled.

Hermione felt as though she’d been torn apart by the seams. Sirius moved—slowly—allowing her time to adjust. “You’re doing so good for me. Fuck—you’re so fucking tight.”

Hermione watched as Sirius closed his eyes, mouth agape as he rocked shallowly until he was fully inside of her. She reached forward, pulling him towards her as she slipped her leg from his shoulder. She kissed him, pouring every drop of love and need for him in each caress of her tongue against his. 

“ Please, move,” she begged against his mouth, low and desperate.

“Touch yourself, kitten.”

Sirius pressed his hands behind her knees tilting her hips back and up. She took him deeper, moaning as he set a steady pace. Each drag was a torturous fill, pushing her to dangle on the ledge of something devouring. Hermione slipped her hand between them, circling her clit as he moved.

“Just like that— fuck— you’re—” but Sirius’s words died, his focus lost as his gaze bounced between where their bodies joined and where Hermione touched herself before him.

She came with an unexpected, shattering force, each muscle in her body tightening as blinding pleasure coursed through her veins like fiendfyre— uncontrollable. Her vision blurred, her nails digging into Sirius’s arms. His thrusts became frantic, his hips snapping against her until he came with a deep groan. 

Her fingers trailed up his arms, feeling the sheen of sweat under her fingertips as her hands wrapped around his shoulders. Hermione pulled him atop her, cherishing the feeling of his skin against hers. Sirius slipped from inside her, burying his face against her neck.  He waved his hand over them, and she felt the cool sensation of a Scourgify. Hermione pressed a kiss to his damp hair, whispering a soft ‘thanks.’

They laid together in silence, each sated and content to enjoy their post orgasm haze as a tangled mess of limbs, but after a moment Sirius leaned up, looking at her intently. There was contemplation written in the depths of his grey eyes. 

“What’s wrong, Sirius?” She asked, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Was I too rough?” 

“ No.” It was a conversation they’d had repeatedly over the course of their relationship. “I loved everything . This was my surprise— my idea , remember?”

“But I don’t ever want—”

She pressed her lips to his, effectively silencing him. “I want to experience everything with you, Sirius Black. I love you.”

Sirius nodded, pressing his lips to hers again. “I love you so fucking much, Hermione. There isn’t a vocabulary big enough for me to express what you mean to me.”

“No? Not even with your prestigious ‘pureblood education?’”

“ Don’t start…”

Hermione laughed, her hand threading through his hair as Sirius lowered his head back to her chest, listening to her heart.

“That was—” he started, but his voice trailed off. 

She grinned, tracing the curve of his shoulder with her finger. “I would not be opposed to doing it again.”

He pressed a kiss to the centre of her chest. “I fucking love you.”